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ise   Up,   Jennie    Smith  : 
Play  in   One  Act:  by 
!achel  L.  Field 


PRIZE  PLAY 

DRAMA  LEAGUE  OF  AMERICA 

PATRIOTIC  PLAY  COMPETITION 


•amuel  French:  Publisher 

i-30  West  Thirty-eighth  St. :  New  York 


LONDON 


Samuel  French,  Ltd. 

26  Southampton  Street,  Strand 
PRICE  TWENTY-FIVE  CENTS 


Rise  Up,  Jennie  Smith  : 
A  Play  in  One  Act:  by 
Rachel  L.  Field 


PRIZE  PLA 
DRAMA  LE 

RIOTIC  PLAY  COMPE 


Samuel  French :  Publisher 

28-30  West  Thirty-eighth  Sr. :  New  York 


Samuel  French,  Ltd. 

26  Southampton  Street,  Str.. 


*(i 


•-  .  • 


Copyright,   1918,  By  Rachael  L.  Field 
Copyright,  1918,  By  Dkama  League  of  America 


Amateurs  may  produce  this  play  without  payment  of 
royalty  provided  they  notify  the  Drama  League  of  America, 
Biggs  Building,  Washington,  D.  C.  of  such  productions. 
Applications  for  professional  productions  should  be  ad- 
dressed to  the  Drama  League  of  America. 


i 


RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH 


SYNOPSIS 

Jennie   Smith   is   a  little  dressmaker's   assistant, 
whose   only   friend   is   Mabel,   another   girl  in   the 
establishment.     But  this  was  before  Jennie  notices 
the  resemblance  between  the  angel  in  a  stained-glass 
window  in  their  workroom,  and  a  picture  ^  of   St. 
Michael  in  her  book  about  "Jeanne  d'Arc."     Im- 
mediately she  believes  that  the  man  in  the  window  is 
St.  Michael,  and  she  addresses  him  as  such.     Her 
great  hope  is  that  he  will  some  day  speak  to  her,  as 
he  did  to  Jeanne.     During  the  three  years  she  has 
worked,    Jennie   has   saved   fifty-three   dollars   and 
eighty-one  cents,  with  which  she  is  going  home  for 
her  first  vacation.     This  trip  means  everything  to 
her.     Then  comes  Mrs.  Reynolds,  a  worthy  lady, 
fond  of  talking  to  working  girls.     She  urges  Mabel, 
and  Tennie.  to  buy  a  Liberty  Bond  and  help  their 
country.    Mabel  is  unmoved,  but  Jennie  begins  to  be 
worried  when  she  hears  the  bonds  are  fifty  dollars. 
Mrs.   Reynolds  departs,  leaving  the  Liberty  Bond 
slips  there.     Mabel  goes  out  to  lunch,  but  Jennie 
remains  alone  to  eat  hers.    She  begins  to  read  about 
Jeanne  and  the  Voice  which  told  her  to  rise  and  save 
France.    Suddenly  St.  Michael  in  the  window  comes 
to  life,  and  addresses  Jennie,  much  as  he  did  Jeanne, 
only    his    phrases    resemble    those    used    by    Mrs. 
Reynolds,  and  his  grammar  is  rather  like  Jennie's. 
He  tells   Tennie  to  be  patriotic,  and  intimates  that 
she   should   buy  a   Bond.     The   vision    fades,   and 
Jennie  is  alone  before  the  window,  but  she  is  over- 
come by  the  thought  that  St.  Michael  has  spoken  to 

3 

M203812 


4  SYNOPSIS 

her.  Then  comes  her  struggle  between  going  on  her 
vacation  and  being  patriotic.  At  last  she  decides  to 
buy  the  Bond,  and  as  she  holds  out  the  money  and 
the  slip  to  show  St.  Michael,  a  burst  of  sunshine 
from  outside,  lights  up  the  window,  so  that  his  face 
looks  radiant  to  her,  and  she  hears  his  voice  from 
far  away,  saying — "Jennie  Smith,  you're  a  patriot, 
you  are." 


RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 

Tenny  Smith  I  Dressmakers'  Assistants  at  Madam 
Mabel  \  Louise's 

Mrs.  Reynolds A  customer 

St.  Michael 

Scene:    A  room  in  Madam  Louise's  dressmaking 

establishment 

Time:    The  present. 
5 


Rise  Up,  Jennie  Smith 


Scene:  A  room  in  Madam  Louise's  dressmaking 
establishment.  It  is  a  large  bare  one  in  what 
was  once  evidently  the  back  roovt  of  a  city 
house,  and  it  wears  that  dreary,  betwixt  and 
betzveen  air  common  to  such  places.  It  contains 
little  except  several  chairs,  a  table,  and  two 
long  mirrors,  also  forms  upon  which  dresses 
in  various  stages  of  completion  are  draped. 
There  is  a  door  right  back  with  a  velvet  cur- 
tain; at  the  left  some  screens  form  a  dressing 
room.  At  the  back  center  is  an  outrageous 
stained-glass  window,  portraying  an  Angel — 
(So  called  because  of  his  conventional  robes  and 
unearthly  yellow  hair.)  clad  in  a  glaring 
costume  of  lemon-yellow  and  royal  purple,  with 
a  Nile-green  background. 

Time:    May  or  early  June,  191 7. 

When  the  curtain  rises  a  girl,  somewhere  in 
the  twenties,  wearing  an  unbecoming  black 
dress  and  apron,  is  spreading  out  a  dress  care- 
fully on  one  of  the  chairs.  Her  face  is  rather 
small  and  plain,  wistful  and  pale.  Her  zvork 
finished,  she  pulls  a  book  out  of  her  pocket, 
which  she  studies  intently,  looking  up  from  it 
to  the  window,  as  if  she  were  comparing  a 
picture  there  to  the  Angel  in  the  window.  At 
last  she  hurries  over  to  the  back  and  stands 

7 


8  RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH 

in  an  absorbed  study  of  the  window.    She  makes 
the  quick  suggestion  of  a  bozv  to  it. 

Jennie.  {Addressing  the  man  in  the  window) 
You  needn't  try  to  be  so  mysterious,  Saint  Michael! 
(She  says  this  with  triumphant  emphasis,  display- 
ing a  picture  in  the  book)  I'm  on  to  your  number! 
(Nodding)  Yes,  I  know  all  about  you  now.  It's 
no  use  pretendin'  I  don't,  'cause  I  do !  I'm  wise  to 
you  even  if  I  never  had  no  beau  before.  (Study- 
ing the  picture  in  the  book  again)  It's  a  different 
picture,  but  I  could  tell  your  aristocratic  features 
anywhere !  'Twas  an  awful  relief  to  find  you  out, 
'cause  I  was  afraid  maybe  you  was  the  kind  that 
runs  after  the  swells — but  she  didn't  dress  any 
better  than  I  do,  and  her  name  wasn't  stylish  either. 
(Spelling  out  the  title  of  the  book)  J-e-a-n-n-e, 
— if  that  ain't  French  for  Jennie,  I  don't  know  what 
is!  (She  gases  at  him  wistfully)  I  think  you 
might  have  told  me  you  was  a  friend  of  hers. — I 
wouldn't  have  minded,  she's  been  dead  so  long, — 
but — (She  sighs  deeply,  and  looks  a  little  grieved) 
You  don't  never  tell  me  nothin'.  (She  lapses  into 
silence,  growing  more  absorbed  in  the  book.  Here 
another  girl  enters.  She  is  plump  and  dark,  with  a 
rather  pretty,  stolid  face.  Her  clothes  are  cheap, 
but  more  stylish  than  Jennie's,  and  her  hair  is 
elaborately  arranged.  She  regards  Jennie  dis- 
approvingly, and  going  to  her,  touches  her  on  the 
shoulder.  Jennie,  starting  guiltily)  Oh,  Mabel, 
you  give  me  an  awful  start! 

Mabel.  Say,  you've  got  the  nerve,  standin'  there 
readin'  in  the  middle  o'  the  mornin' !  S'pose  Madam 
Louise  had  come  in  'stead  o'  me? 

Jennie.  I  guess  I'd  'a  got  chucked  sure !  But  I 
was  all  through  bastin'  an'  I  had  to  wait. 

Mabel.  Ain't  Mrs.  Reynolds  here  yet  ?  Humph, 
I  s'pose  you  couldn't  expect  it, — oh,  she'll  come  all 


RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH  9 

ht,  when  she  gets  good  and  ready.     (She  begins 
'ng  off  the  dress  from  one  of  the  forms) 

riE.  (Holding  out  the  book  to  her)  You'd 
ought  to  read  it,  Mabel.  I  got  it  down  to  the  library 
the  other  night.  The  books  they  all  looked  so  awful 
big  an'  profound,  an'  then  I  seen  this, — 'twas  just 
my  size,  an'  there  was  my  name — least  I  knew  it 
be  French  for  Je  mie, — see 

Mabel.  (Scrutinizing  the  title,  and  pronouncing 
it  so  that  each  letter  has  its  face  value)  Jeanne 
d'Arc — I've  heard  of  her, — in  the  movies  ! 

Jennie       (Dreamily)      Saviour   of    France    she 

is, — and  her  only  sixteen. 

3EL.     (Examining  the  picture)     I  don't  think 
much  of  her  looks — the  movies  beat  that ! 

Jennie.  (Still  under  the  spell  of  the  book) 
Twas  wonderful. — why,  St.  Michael  came  down 
himself — (Here  she  glances  surreptitiously  at  the 
window)  an'  he  says  to  her — "My  girl!  "Rise  up 
an'  save  France, — go  an'  crown  the  Dolphin!" 

Mabel.    Awful  queer  dope  ! 

Jennie.  (Admiringly)  Just  to  think  of  a  Saint's 
comin'  down  to  converse  while  you  was  weedin' 
cabbages  in  your  father's  garden!  Why,  I  done 
that  for  years,  but  I  never  heard  none. 

Mabel.  (Scornfully)  'Course  not!  Only  loonies 
do  !    I  bet  she  wasn't  all  there  ! 

Jennie.  (Unshaken)  But  she  saved  them  all — 
(W 1st fully)  I  wish  things  'ud  happen  like  that 
now 

Mabel.     I  don't — 'twould  give  me  the  creeps ! 

Jennie.  (Looking  towards  the  window)  I  think 
St.    Michael   must   'a   looked  like   him,   don't  you? 

Mabel.  You're  an  awful  queer  kid!  Gracious, 
I  don't  know! — (She  has  finished  taking  dozen  the 
dress  and  suddenly  exclaims)  Gee,  if  I  didn't  clean 
forget  to  hem  up  that  train !  For  the  love  o'  Mike, 
Jennie,  give  me  a  hand  with  it !— She'll  be  here  any 


io  RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH 

minute!      (Jennie  helps  her) — Goin'  to  get  your 
two  weeks  off? 

::.    Yes,  Madam  Louise  told  me  last  night — 
I'm  goin'  week  after  next. 

Mabel.    I'm  awful  glad. 

Jennie.  (Ecstatically)  I'm  goin'  to  buy  my 
ticket  to-night ! 

Mabel.    What's  your  hurry? 

Tenxie.  I  thought  I'd  have  the  ticket  to  look  at — 
'twould  give  me  an'  awful  pleased  feelin'  to  have  it 
by  me  evenin's ! 

Mabel.  (With  spirit)  Well,  I'd  want  more 
company  than  an  old  green  ticket,  n'  matter  how 
much  it  cost !     Ain't  you  ever  lonesome  ? 

Jennie.  (Hesitating)  I — I  was — when  I  first 
come.  There  was  so  many  of  us  at  home,  you 
couldn't  move  without  kinda  gettin'  mixed  up  with 
somebody ! 

Mabel.  (Sagely)  You'd  oughter  get  somebody 
to  keep  company  with — it's  awful  easy  once  you 
get  'em  started ! 

Jennie.  (Hastily)  Oh,  I  ain't  lonesome — not 
now 

Mabel.  (Her  mouth  full  of  pins)  You  haven't 
took  up  with  anyone,  have  you? 

Jennie.  (Nervously)  N — n — not  with  anyone 
you  know ! 

Mabel.  (Sitting  back  on  her  heels  and  eyeing 
Jennie  sharply)  Jennie  Smith,  d'  you  mean  to  tell 
me  you've  hooked  a  swell  or  somethin'  on  the 
side? 

Jennie.  (Alarmed)  Oh,  I  ain't — I  ain't — 'Only 
everybody  talks  'bout  things  like  that.  But  I  just 
said — oh,  don't  be  cross  with  me,  Mabel !  Don't 
cast  me  off  forever  ! 

Mabel.  (Mystified)  Where'd  you  get  that  dope? 
I  never  said  I'd  chuck  you ! 

Jennie.     (Quoting  dreamily)     Some  folks  just 


RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH  n 

plays  with  you  an'  then  they  casts  you  off  forever ! 
— Like — like  discarded  garments! 

vbel.  Say,  1  wish  you'd  be  more  plain  spoken! 
I  get  you,  though,— I  seen  'em  do  it !  They  squeezes 
you  and  squeezes  you.  an'  then  out  you  like  a 

used-up  lemon  !     I'm  on  to  like  that ! 

Jennie.     I'm  wise,  too.     I  knew  you  wasn't  that 

kind ! 
Mabel.    I  guess  not ! — Say,  what  sort  o'  jaunt ; 

plannin'? 

Jennie.  {Glowing  with  eagerness)  I'm  goin' 
home. — I  ain't  keen  there  for  three  years.  It's  a 
long  trip. — you  start  at  four  o'clock  an'  you  don't 
get  there  till  ten  the  next  mornin'. 

Mabel.  Gee,  must  he  terrible  expensive  all  night 
on  the  train ! 

Jennie.  It  is — but  I've  been  here  most  three 
years  an'  I  haven't  took  no  vacation.  Oh,  I've  been 
savin'  up  for  this.  I'm  goin'  in  the  sleeper,  an'  I'll 
have  dinner  in  the  diner  with  the  black  men  in  white 
coats  waitin'  on  me, — an'  when  I  go  out,  I'll  leave 
twenty-five  cents  on  the  table, — just  careless  like,  as 
if  'twas  nothin'  to  me!  Oh,  I'm  goin'  to  travel  in 
style! 

"Mabel.  (Admiringly)  My,  it'll  cost  a  lot. — 
how  much  d'  you  save? 

xie.      {Trying  to  lock  unconscious)      Fifty- 
three  dollars  an'  eighty-one  cents. 

Mabel.    Say,  you  done  well! 

Jennie.    It  took  me  th  >rs, — 'course  I  could 

a  done  it  sooner  if  Ma  hadn't  run  short  when  the 
insurance  come  due,  an'  if  I  hadn't  had  that 
of  the  "  la  grippe  "  last  winter! 

Mabel.     I  couldn't  have  done  it  in  ten !     I  just 
have  to  take  in  all  the  movies, — I  can't  lay  ro  I 
an'  fritter  my  evenin's  away  in  light  occupation 
some  do ! 


12  RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH 

Jennie.  The  movies  is  terrible  fascinatin' — but 
I've  had  to  =  r  e 

Mabel.  Weil,  1  hope  you  get  your  money's 
worth, — 'course,  if  I  h;  ■  much  'twould  be  ro 

gardens,  an'  the  theater,  an'  dancin'  every  night  for 
mine ! 

Jenn]  They're  nice  I  s'pose,  when  you  get 
.  but  someway  things  from  back  wh 
I  come  from  seems  lots  realer!  (She  hugs  her  arms 
ecs;  Two  weeks  an'  I'll  be  there, — Mabel, 
I'll  be  VTilkin'  up  Unci  -  hill,  it  lands  you  all  of 
a  sudden  in  our  apple-orchard 

Mabel.  (The  ever  practical)  Too  bad  there 
won't  be  no  apples  so  early ! 

Jennie.  There'll  be  the  beginnings  of  apples — 
with  greeny  fuzz  on  'em ! 

Mabel.     Hand  me  the  pins,  will  vou! 

Jennie.  (Giving  them  to  her  and  going  on) 
They'll  all  come  runnin'  down  to  meet  me, — Bill's 
taller'n  Uncle  Jo  now,  an'  Sally  wears  long  dresses 
an'  goes  to  high  school,  an'  Sam  an'  Mary '11  be 
tryin'  to  see  which  of  'em  can  get  to  me  first. — the 
baby'll  be  four  now,  an'  runnin'  after  'em — an' 
mother'll  be  waitin'  in  the  door  ready  to  pop  dinner 
on  the  table ! 

Mabel.  (Without  enthusiasm)  Pleasant  life  ail 
right  l 

Jennie.  An'  I'll  have  it  for  two  whole  weeks— 
my,  it'll  be  fine  to  go  by  houses  again ! 

Mabel.     Houses?     Land,  ain't  the  city  full  of 

'em  ? 

Jennie.  (Puzzled)  Oh,  I  s'pose  so— but  I  al- 
ways think  of  'em  as  just  buildin's  where  folks 
live.  Red  ?  brick's  so  kinda  proud  an'  puffed-up- 
lookin',  an'  plate  glass  windows — an'  the  streets 
without  plate  glass  windows  is  worse  than  the 
others!     Home,  the  houses   is  all  mixed   in  with 


RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH  13 

grass  an'  trees,  an'  the  windows  has  little  panes  o' 
<s — an'  there's  always  eyes  watchin'  out  of  'em — 
1,  Tlit-re  is  a  murmur  of  voices  outside) 

Mabel.     (Quickly)     Say,  get  on  the  band- wagon. 
Jennie,  they're  comin' ! 

xiE.      (Getting  up   slowly)      Seems   as   i 
couldn't  wait  for  week  after  next! 

(A  .  well-groomed,  expansive  lady  appears 

the  carta  y.    She  speaks  condescend- 

ing pleasantry   to  someone  behind   her  whom 
the  audience  does  not  see.) 

Mrs.  Reynolds.  Thank  you,  Madam  Louise, — 
bow  attractive  your  new  rooms  are — a  great 
provement  on  the  old  quarters ;  so  much  more  sun 
and  air.  I'm  sure  the  dresses  ought  to  be  more 
sanitary  made  under  these  conditions.  Houses  are 
so  much  pleasanter  than  regular  office  buildings. 
(She  enters,  looking  about)  This  must  have  been 
the  old   dining  room, —  (X  at  icing  the  stai  'ass 

ndow,  and  eying  it  with  superior  amusement) 
though  how  anyone  could  eat  with  such  a  monstros- 
ity,— such  hideous,  glaring  colors!  (She  studies  it) 
What  a  figure !  It's  enough  to  make  the  Saints  turn 
in  their  graves ! 

Jennie.  (Incredulously)  You — you  wasn't 
speakin'  of  St.  Michael  in  the  window,  was  you? 

Mrs.  Reynolds.     (Starting,  perceiving  the  girls) 
Oh,  good  morning.    St.  Michael,  did  you  say? 
I    oily   hope    his    namesake   hasn't   seen   this, — it's 
enough  to  set  one's  teeth  en  edge ! 

Jennie.     I — I  never  noticed  nothin'  wrong  \ 


it! 


Mrs.  Reynolds.  (Smiling  with  superiority) 
Well,  of  course,  it's  only  dreadfully  out  of  draw- 
ing, with  horribly  crude  colors,  and  as  for  the  ex- 
pression  


i4  RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH 

Mabel.     (Grimly)     I  don't  have  much  time  for 
stud  beauty — your   d      5  is  idy, — just 

step  thi  ■.  y.  {They  go  into  the  dressing  room 
behind  ih  screens  at  the  left.  Jennie  gazes  at 
the  ivindi   v  with  a  hurt  ■  .''lee1  look.    At  length 

she  gees  over  and  speaks  to  it,  softly) 

m't  you  mind  her.     It's  awful  tough 
luck  v. :  :ople  don't  take  to  your  particular  si 

o'  looks.     (Si  )     I  know  'cause  they  never  do 

to  mine !  St.  Michael,  they  says  worse  things  than 
that  about  me!  (There  is  a  moment  of  silence  as 
she  ieaich.es  him)  But  I  don't  mind. — /  can  see 
your  aristocratic  nature  shinin'  through  the  in- 
firmities of  the  flesh !  (She  makes  him  another 
little  bow)  IV e  should  worry,  St.  Michael.  (Slie 
turns  away  as  Mrs.  Reynolds  and  Mabel  emerge 
from  the  dressing  room.  Mrs.  Reynolds  has 
slipped  on  a  handsome  black  satin  dress  with  0: 
long  train,  and  much  sparkling  jet  trimming  on  the 
front.  She  stands  before  one  of  the  mirrors,  turn- 
ing and  twisting  to  see  it  from  all  sides) 

Mabel.  Just  let  me  drape  this,  so  you  can  get  the 
effect.  Give  me  a  hand  here,  Jennie.  (Thy  both  set 
to  work,  Jennie  on  her  knees  pinning,  and  Mabel 
hovering  over  her,  directing  and  adjusting.  Mrs. 
Reynolds  beams  upon  them,  assuming  the  manner 
with  ivhich  she  is  wont  to  address  "  worthy  working 
girls.") 

Mrs.  Reynolds.  Madam  Louise  said  I  might 
say  a  few  words  to  you  girls  about  something  that 
is  very  vital  to  all  of  us  these  days 

Mabel.     (Abstractedly)     Yes,  M'm. 

Mrs.  Reynolds.  Of  course,  I  needn't  tell  you 
that  every  girl  in  this  country  wants  to  do  her  "  bit  " 
in  the  war, —  (To  Jennie)  Wait,  not  so  high. — 
looser,  yes,  that's  more  like  it ! — You're  both 
patriotic,  I  know 


RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMI1  15 

Mabel.       (Glibl  Oh,    yes,    I've    knit    two 

sw<  an'  a  muffler  already. 

■  nolds.     Thai  it  I  mean, 

well,  it  is  ;  :r  of  sacrifice,— have  you  ever  really 

n  anything  to  your  country? 
'    M  \bel.    Why,  vou  see.  Ma  an'  Pa  generally  gets 
[    earn,    so  the    U.    S.   A.   don't   have   much 

chance '  ,       „ 

rs.  Reynolds.  (Ignoring  tins)  We  re  all  sup- 
porting the  government  by  buying  its  bonds-— (Im- 
patiently) Not  so  near  the  waist,— drop  it  two 
inches !— Of  course,  some  of  us  are  doing  more  than 
others.  (Impressively)  I'm  giving  my  two  sons  to 
the  country. 

'f.el.     (With  polite  interest)     Is  that  so: 

Jennie.     You  mean  they're  soldiers? 

Mrs.  Reynolds.  (Hastily)  Practically,— one  is 
in  Washington,  and  the  other  is  collecting  statistics 
for  a  munition  plant.  This  dress  is  for  his  wedding 
—  (Smoothing  the  lustrous  folds)  We  wanted 
everything  simple  and  in  keeping  with  this  national 

crisis. 

Jennie.    Are  the  bonds  you  was  speakin'  of  real 

expensive? 

Mrs.  Reynolds.  They're  cheap— just  so  no  one 
need  lose  a  chance  to  serve  his  country— some  are  a 
thousand,— a  hundred, — and  fifty  dollars 

Jennie.     Fifty  dollars? 

Mabel.     That's  a  lot 

Mrs.  Reynolds.  (Reprovingly)  Its  small 
enough  when  it's  a  chance  to  serve  your  country, 
and  Democracy,  and— and  keep  Slavery  and  Op- 
pression from  this  free  land  of  ours !  Fifty  dollars 
will    help    equip    a    soldier    to    fight    for    us    over 

there. 

Jennie.      (Interested)      Will  there  be  a  soldier 

for  everyone? 

Mrs.  "Reynolds.      (Giving   an    impatient   start) 


16  RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH 

Oh,  that  pin — it's  sticking  in  me, — no,  the  other 
side! — (Relapsing  into  her  most  oratorical  manner) 
Of  course,  we  can't  go  and  fight  for  our  country, 
but  we  can  give  up  our  little  luxuries  and  ex- 
travagances so  that  Liberty's  flame  may  burn  more 
clearly  and  steadily  to  be  a  iight  for  the  generatio 
that  shall  follow  after  us!  (To  Jennie)  That's 
short  enough ! 

Mabel.  (Skeptically)  Some  of  us  don't  have 
many  extravagances,  as  you  might  say. 

Mrs.  Reynolds.  (Sternly)  Everyone  can  make 
some  sacrifice.  (Drawing  out  some  papers  from 
her  bag  and  putting  them  on  the  table)  These  will 
tell  you  a!!  the  details.  (Mabel  leads  her  to  the 
dressing  room,  but  her  voice  may  still  be  heard,  and 
Jennie  listens,  a  puzzled  frown  puckering  her  face) 
I  hope  you  girls  -will  think  this  over  carefully.  Your 
country  has  enrolled  itself  in  the  most  supreme  issue 
that  has  ever  faced  the  peoples  of  the  world. — We 
are  siding  against  injustice  and  despotism, — are  you 
going  to  let  freedom  and  enlightenment  be  trampled 
out  forever?  I  know  you  are  both  patriotic, — you 
are,  aren't  you? 

Mabel.  (Speaking  from  behind  the  screen) 
yes,  m'm. 

Jennie.      (Fervently)      Oh,  yes,  indeed 

Mabel.     When  do  you  wish  the  dress  sent? 

Mrs.  Reynolds.  Oh,  I  must  have  it  to-mor- 
row. 

Mabel.  We'll  try,  but  if  it  could  be  the  day 
after 

Mrs.  Reynolds.  I'm  counting  on  having  it  to- 
morrow. 

Mabel.    If  the  wedding  don't  come  then- 


Mrs.  Reynolds.  (Impatiently)  The  wedding 
has  nothing  to  do  with  my  having  that  dress  to- 
morrow ! 


RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH  17 

Mabel.  (Resignedly)  Well,  we'll  do  our  best, 
but  it'll  mean  staying  late 

(There  is  an  indistinct  murmur  behind  the  screens 
and  presently  Mrs.  Reynolds  appears.  She 
smiles  patronizingly  to  the  girls.) 

Mrs.  Reynolds.  I  hope  you'll  remember  about 
the  Liberty  Bonds,  girls,  and  do  your  duty,— -it's  a 
privilege,  you  know!     (She  goes  out  majestically) 

Mabel.  (With  spirit)  I  notice  she  don't  offer 
to  pay  us  for  workin'  extra  time  on  that  dress ! 
An'  her  precious  darlin'  what's  servin'  his  country 
so  beautiful  in  Washington,  D.  C,  ain't  killin'  him- 
self. I'll  bet! 

Jennie.  (A  worried  look  creeping  into  her  face) 
I  guess  she  meant  all  right,  but  I  did  get  kinda 
mixed  up  'bout  those  bonds — she  said  'twas  our 
duty. 

Mabel.  (With  spirit)  She's  a  good  one  to  talk- 
about  duty — she  don't  know  it  by  sight!  (Glancing 
at  the  clock)  Well,  you  comin'  out  for  lunch ?  It's 
twelve.  If  you  want  I  can  help  you  look  for  the 
dress  an'  hat  you're  goin'  to  buy  with  what's  left 
over  from  the  ticket.  I  know  a  real  swell  place 
where  you  can  get  awful  "  chick  "  things  ! 

Jennie.  (Slowly)  I  guess  I  won't — not  this 
noon,  Mabel.  I'll  eat  some  lunch  here. — Maybe  to- 
morrow  

Mabel.  (Good-naturedly)  Oh,  all  right,  suit 
yourself,  any  time — (She   exits  humming) 

(Jennie  goes  behind  the  screen,  returning  with  a 
small  package  of  lunch.     She  seats  herself  by 
the  table  where  she  commands  a  good  viezv  of 
St.  Michael,  and  munches  a  sandzvicJi  thought- 
fully, gazing  at  him  all  the  time.) 


& 


18  RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH 

Jennie.  (Shaking  her  head  sadly)  You  talked 
t0  her — I  think  you  might  just  say  "hello"  to  me! 
(But  the  Angel  makes  no  sign  and  at  last  sJie  turns 
to  the  book.  She  opens  it  and  soon  becomes 
absorbed,  the  sandzvich  still  half  eaten  in  her  hand. 
Jennie,  reading  aloud  to  herself,  rather  slowly  and 
painstakingly,  stumbling  occasionally  over  some  long 
word.  Jennie,  reading)  "Ten  centuries  of  sleep 
were  ended,  and  heralded  by  this  extraordinary 
girl,  mankind  rose  to  clear  away  an  ac — ac — cu — 
mul — ation  of  injustices  and  wrongs,  preparin'  the 
world  for  a  new  epoch !  "  (Her  face  grozvs  puzzled 
again)  Why  that's  what  she  said  they'd  do — it's 
er.  (She  turns  the  pages  and  reads  fragments 
here  and  there)  "And  the  voice  came  almost  at 
the  hour  of  noon,  in  summer,  in  her  father's 
garden." — "  And  Jeanne  answered  him  and  said — 
"  I  am  a  poor  girl,  knowing  neither  how  to  bestride 
a  horse,  nor  how  to  make  war." 

(The  stage  has  gradually  been  growing  darker,  till 
by  tliis  time  nothing  is  disti)ict  except  Jennie's 
figure  bending  over  the  book.  Suddenly  a 
brightness  begins  to  show  in  the  place  where 
the  window  was.  TJiis  grows  steadily  brighter, 
until  St.  Michael  himself  appears  in  the  frame 
of  the  window.  He  is  dressed  as  before,  only 
the  colors  of  Jiis  robe  are  no  longer  crude,  but 
luminous,  and  his  face  is  grave  and  beautiful. 
He  stretches  out  his  hand  towards  Jennie,  zvho 
starts  up  with  a  cry.  He  speaks  in  a  low, 
thrilling  voice.) 

St.  Michael.     Jennie  Smith- 


Jennie.  (Dropping  on  her  knees,  and  speaking 
in  glad  awe)  Oh,  St.  Michael, — you've  spoke  to 
me  !     I  knew  you  would  sometime ! 


RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH  19 

St.  Michael.  (Continuing)  Jennie  Smith,  ain't 
you  goin'  to  be  patriotic? 

Jennie.    Oh,  Sir,  I'd  like  to  be 

St.  Michael.  (Fixing  searching  eyes  upon  her) 
Are  vou  doin'  your  duty? 

Jennie.      Well,    you    know    I'm    not    good    for 

much.  .  .  , 

St.  Michael.  I'm  a  callin'  of  you,  Jennie  Smith, 
an'    your    country's    a    callin'    you— to    help    the 

Jennie.  (Helplessly)  Oh,  St.  Michael,  I  don't 
know  nothin'  'bout  war. 

St.  Michael.  You  must  serve  them  that  fights 
for  their  country  with  gun  and  sword. 

Jennie.  I've  never  had  nothin'  to  do  with  swords, 
—scissors  an'  needle  an'  thread's  been  my  line. 

St.  Michael.  (Commandingly)  Rise  up.  Jennie 
Smith!  (She  stumbles  to  her  feet)  It's  up  to  you 
to  keep  the  flame  o'  Liberty  burnin'  bright  an'  steady 
for  them  that's  comin'  after  you. 

[ennie.    I — I  want  to 

St.  Michael.  (Searchingly)  Are  you  goin  to 
do  your  duty  an'  keep  slavery  an'  oppression  from 
this  land? 

Jennie.    Ye — es,  St.  Michael 

St.  Michael.  (Calmly)  You  an'  me  knows 
how  vou  can  do  that. 

Jennie.  (Pleading  as  the  significance  bursts 
upon  her)   Oh,   St.   Michael,  ain't  there  no  other 

wav  ? 

St.  Michael.  There  is  not,  Jennie  Smith,— I'll 
be  watchin'  of  vou  to  see  vou  performin'  your  duty. 

Jennie.  (Noticing  that  the  light  is  dimmer) 
Oh,    you    ain't    leavin'    me, — you    won't    go    back 


again  ? 


St.   Michael.     The   time   has   come   when   we 


20  RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH 

must  part, — but  remember,  Jennie   Smith,  remem- 
ber  

(The  light  dies  out  and  for  a  moment  the  room  is  in 
darkness.  When  it  returns  to  its  normal  liglit, 
everything  is  as  usual,  except  that  Jennie  is 
standing  with  her  arms  stretched  out  towards 
the  window.) 

Jennie.  (Repeating  dazedly)  Don't  go  back 
again,  St.  Michael !  (He  remains  passive.  She  gets 
up  and  goes  to  him,  touching  him  wonderingly) 
You're  just  the  same  as  ever,  but — (Thrilling  with 
awe  and  pride)  you've  spoke  to  me!  Just  like 
you  did  to  her — an'  I  ain't  nothin'  but  a  dress- 
maker's assistant !  (She  moves  away  still  studying 
his  face)  But,  no, — you  ain't  just  the  same !  (In 
sudden  alarm)  Oh,  St.  Michael,  please  don't  look 
at  me  like  that !  Don't  you  do  it !  (She  covers  her 
face)  If  you  only  wouldn't  look  so  sorrowful, — 
is  it  about  one  of  them  bonds  ? — Oh,  dear,  I  knew  it 
was !  (She  is  silent,  then  gathering  up  her  courage 
she  speaks  in  a  sort  of  pleading  defiance)  Just  one 
fifty  dollars  ain't  goin'  to  make  Liberty's  light  no 
brighter,  an'  it  makes  a  heap  o'  difference  to  me — 
goin'  home,  an'  havin'  store  clothes,  an'  the  dinin' 
car,  an'  everythin' !  Don't  you  see  how  'tis  ?  (She 
looks  at  him  again,  but  again  she  turns  away,  tzvist- 
ing  her  hands  nervously)  Oh,  St.  Michael,  couldn't 
you  make  it  somethin'  else?  (Then  she  turns  azvay 
and  goes  to  the  table,  as  she  stands  there  fingering 
the  papers  idly, — her  eyes  fall  on  the  Liberty  Bond 
slips  Mrs.  Reynolds  left.  She  takes  one  up  and 
pussies  over  the  contents)  "  To  equip  one  soldier, — 
item, — socks,  trousers,  two  shirts  and  a  hat  and 
leggins,  fifteen  dollars, — item, — two  pair  shoes,  five 
dollars  each, —  (Under  her  breath)  My,  they're 
terrible  dear. — One  heavy  overcoat,  ten  dollars,  one 


RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH  21 

blouse,  seven-fifty — (At  this  she  suddenly  brightens) 
Say,  St.  Michal,  couldn't  /  make  him  a  blouse  an' 
coat? — I'd  buy  the  cloth  an'  a  real  good  pattern, — 
an'  you  know  I  can  sew !  (She  gases  at  him  hope- 
fully) Won't  you  let  me  do  that  instead?  (No 
change  hikes  place  in  his  expression,  and  Jennie  is 
crestfallen)  Oh,  I  know  how  that  soldicr'd  feel, — 
he'd  be  awful  shamed  if  his  clothes  didn't  look  just 
like  the  bought-ent  ones.  (Sighing)  I've  known 
how  'tis  not  to  look  like  other  folks,  an'  have  'em 
laugh.  No,  you're  right,  St.  Michael,  'twouldn't 
do !  (  She  takes  another  look  at  the  window  to  see 
if  her  words  have  produced  any  effect,  then  she 
looks  hastily  aivay)  Oh,  I  can't  stand  seein'  you 
look  so  sorrowful  an'  know  'twas  all  because  o'  me 
not  doin'  my  duty!  If  you  was  to  cast  me  off  for- 
ever,— an'  you  my  only  beau — (Making  a  desperate 
appeal)  I'm  starin'  you  in  the  eye,  I  am,  an'  if 
there's  any  other  way  o'  keepin'  Liberty's  torch  burn- 
in'  'sides  my  givin'  the  money,  you  can  just  stop 
lookin'  so  sad.  (Wistfully)  See  if  there  ain't  some 
other  way.  Please  think  awful  hard,  St.  Michael ! 
(She  watches  him  earnestly  but  apparently  no 
change  takes  place  in  his  aristocratic  features)  It's 
no  use, — you're  melancholy,  you  are, — all  because  o' 
me — (S!ie  turns  away  to  the  table,  picks  up  a  pen 
with  determination,  and  begins  to  fill  out  a  s,: 
Wish  I  could  see  my  fifty  dollars  brightenin'  up 
the  future  generations !  But  I  won't  say  a  word  if 
you'll  just  look  pleased  again.  (She  writes  slozvly 
and  painstakingly,  and  when  she  has  finished,  she 
reaches  down  and  extracts  a  roll  of  bills  from  her 
stocking.  She  counts  out  fifty  dollars,  replacin 
the  remaining  three  eighty-one)  There!  (She  puts 
it  all  into  an  envelope,  licking  it  down  firmly  to  avoid 
further  temptation  to  change  her  mind.  She  walks 
to  the  window  and  stands  before  it,  holding  out  the 
envelope,  hardly  daring  to  look  up)     You'll  like  me 


22  RISE  UP,  JENNIE  SMITH 

still,  won't  you,  St.  Michael?  An'  you  won't  fee1 
bad  no  more  ?  (Just  as  she  raises  her  eyes  to  the 
windozv,  a  burst  of  sunshine  from  outside  lights  it 
up, — not  with  the  luminous  brightness  of  the  first 
time,  but  enough  to  convince  Jennie,  who  gives  a 
glad  little  cry) 

St.  Michael.  (Voice  sounding  from  far  away, 
but  kind  and  pleased)  Jennie  Smith,  you're  a 
patriot,  you  are  i 

Curtain 


M203S12 


3  Go 


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